“We’re looking for somebody called Malekrin,” said one.
I was about to point out that they’d not only found him but were welcome to him, when Gailus bustled in after them. Before I could think to wonder what he might want, someone else marched through the door behind him — someone who had no right to be in Gailus’s company, who shouldn’t even have been within the walls of Altapasaeda.
“This here’s…” continued the soldier.
“I know who they are,” I cut him off. “That’s Senator Gailus from Pasaeda, and behind him is Commander Ondeges, currently a general in the army that’s getting ready to slaughter us tomorrow.”
“I’m not looking for trouble,” said Ondeges. “I’m here as ambassador of the King.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” I asked. Then, remembering the soldier’s opening enquiry, I added, “What do you want with Malekrin?”
“I don’t want anything,” Ondeges replied. “But his highness requests his presence, as a matter of urgency. And I think it would be in all our interests if the boy complies.”
“Does Marina Estrada know about this?” I said.
“She doesn’t,” inserted Gailus, “and there isn’t time to tell her. Anyway, the fewer people who know, the less likely word is to get back to Kalyxis.”
“Maybe word should get to her,” I told him. “You’ve already walked us into one massacre today. What makes you think we should trust either of you?”
“It’s all right, Damasco.” Brushing past me, Malekrin addressed himself to Gailus and Ondeges. “I’ll go.”
“What?” I said. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Malekrin turned me a look more pained and, in its way, more childish than any expression I’d yet seen on that obstinate face of his. “You were right,” he said. “I wanted to help and all I’ve done is made things worse. The King wants to talk to me, and I have things I want to say to him, so where’s the problem?”
I sighed heavily. So this was my fault now? “I didn’t mean that. I was just angry. Look, I’m sure this will all work itself out without you making any stupid, noble gestures. I’ve spent most of the last two months with one person or another trying to kill me, and I’m still here to tell about it. Why should this be any different?”
“Malekrin,” Gailus put in, with a glare aimed in my direction, “if you’re to go, it needs to be now.”
Malekrin nodded, and then let his head hang; the gesture made me think of a prisoner placing his neck on the block in Red Carnation Square. “I’m coming,” he said. “But, Damasco… would you come with me? I mean, in case…”
“Of course not!” I cried. “In case what? In case you decide you want to rob the place on the way out? You’ve already dragged me into trouble once today.”
“In case,” Malekrin said quietly, “I’m too much of a coward to go through with it.”
Now he really did look like a child, a child trying to keep his head up in waters much too deep for him. “You’re not a coward,” I told him, as certainly as I could.
“Well… I’ll find out, won’t I?”
I sighed once more — and even to my own ears, it seemed to go on forever, like the last stale air draining from a bellows. It was the sound, I realised, of a man grown so used to defeat that it hardly even registered anymore. Could it really be any worse for me to hand myself over to the King today, rather than waiting for him to tear down the gates tomorrow?
“All right,” I said. “I’ll come.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
After a brief discussion between Gailus and the sentries, Ondeges led us out of Altapasaeda by the western gate, the one once reserved for the City Guard.
Ondeges had horses waiting for us in a copse a short way from the road. However, even on horseback and at the quick pace he set, working our way around the jutting corner of Altapasaeda took some time. Evening was already falling, the sky a blue-grey trimmed with purple in its heights, as we crossed into the Suburbs. Unlit and empty of inhabitants, the buildings seemed even more derelict and ominous than usual. It took an effort of will not to think of our journey in the other direction a mere few hours ago.
It was strange to find the Pasaedan camp almost cheerful-seeming after everything that had happened so recently within its bounds. There was no sign left of the morning’s fighting; no bodies, and no blood that I could discern in the fading daylight. But there were campfires now, their orange light wavering merrily in the gloom, and from more than one side I could smell the odour of food cooking. It only occurred to me then that I hadn’t eaten all day — and though the soldier’s dinner was surely meagre fare, I found my mouth watering.
By contrast, the royal pavilion looked less impressive in the evening light. Its colours were faded, its outlines confused; it looked less like a transplanted palace now, more like an odd-shaped hill with flags stuck into it. As before, there were guards on the door — the same two as before, I realised. When both Malekrin and I claimed to have no weapons, they made a point of patting us down until they were satisfied we were telling the truth. Then one of them, looking at me but speaking to Ondeges, asked, “Who’s this?”
The King’s own guards, it seemed, didn’t have to be polite even to commanders. Ondeges didn’t seem concerned, however, as he replied, “The boy wants him along. He’s harmless.”
“You vouch for him?” asked the guard.
“I vouch that he’s no threat,” Ondeges said.
The guard nodded. “All right. But no one else.”
An elaborate way of saying Ondeges wasn’t allowed in; again, though, he seemed unperturbed. But as the guard moved to lead the way, Ondeges leaned close to me and hissed, “Just keep your mouth shut.”
I didn’t contradict him. I had nothing to say to Panchessa besides some enthusiastic pleading, if and when things went how I expected them to go.
Our guard led us inside by the same route as before, and on into the great hexagonal chamber. Just as before, Panchessa was waiting sprawled upon his throne. This time, however, only two cloaked lanterns burned, sinking most of the space in ruddy obscurity, and there was no one else to be seen: no advisors, not even any guards. At a wave from the King, even the one who’d escorted us departed.
What a shame Malekrin had picked me for a companion. Anyone else might have thought to smuggle a weapon in, or else attacked Panchessa with their bare hands, and so ended this war once and for all. Then again, I wasn’t sure that Panchessa would need more than a nudge to ease him out of life. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the scanty, red-tinged light, I could see that he looked more infirm than he had that morning; he was gently shivering, every so often twitching, and his face was drawn and waxen.
Panchessa looked Malekrin up and down, ignoring my presence entirely. In the shadows, I couldn’t make out anything of his expression. Finally, he said, “Thank you for coming, boy. There were things I’d meant to tell you before, and instead I let my anger at your grandmother get the better of me.”
“My name isn’t boy,” Malekrin said. “It’s Malekrin.”
I winced — but all Panchessa said was, “Yes, I remember. I was hard on you earlier, Malekrin.”
“I suppose,” said Malekrin, “that being king means you can talk to people however you choose.”
“True,” agreed Panchessa, ignoring Malekrin’s obvious gibe. “Still. Of all the conversations I might have had with my only grandson on our first meeting, that wasn’t the one I would have chosen.”
Malekrin shrugged. “I’m not sure what else we’d have to talk about.”
Panchessa gave that a moment’s consideration; at least that was how I interpreted his silence. Eventually he said, “I didn’t rape your grandmother, Malekrin.”